


and you'll fight it, you'll go out fighting all of them

by Pistol



Series: Sometimes [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Stargate Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:10:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22407868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pistol/pseuds/Pistol
Summary: In fairy tales, the lost princess always returns to their rightful place and everything feels familiar and right. In reality, Emma can't even read the language of her people.
Series: Sometimes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612576
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	and you'll fight it, you'll go out fighting all of them

They ship her off to Colorado of all places. There she is given careful space as a group of men and women in smart suits and crisp uniforms offer her more apologies alongside quiet threats about how she _must_ understand why the events that took place should stay between her and them.

Emma doesn't need the threats. She was in the system long enough to know that placing blame on people who have more power, money, and friends than you doesn't work unless you have proof no one can ignore. What Emma has isn't proof, what she has is limited to a legacy that if spoken of would get her laughed right into a cell. Padded, if she's lucky or hidden from the public if she isn't. 

+

For the first time in a long time getting her period is a terrifying concept. She wakes up with sticky thighs and instead of her normal routine she sits there, staring at the blackish-red blood in the dim light of her night table. 

She's not human, not like everyone else, so should she even be bleeding? She's never thought about living long enough to reach menopause, but if she did live that long what would happen? How long do her people even live? 

Most importantly, is she the first alien to have an existential crisis while sitting on a bed inside a secret government base?

+

No one has any answers for her about how she got to Earth and they only ever offer her the tiniest hints of information about _what_ she is (an alien), where her people come from (possibly earth, but possibly not), and why it matters so much to them (technology interface keyed to respond to specific genetic traits).

Turns out, who and whatever she is is classified and Emma doesn't have the clearance necessary. Emma laughs at that, long and ugly until everyone in the room is as uncomfortable as she feels.

_See,_ she thinks viciously, watching as Belle refuses to meet her eyes. _You're not the only ones with power._

+

Belle gives her a tour of the 'gate room by way of apology. It doesn't come close to making anything better or even okay, but if some of Belle's hints are to be believed Emma's people might have had some connection to the Stargates. 

"There is no right way to deal with all _this_, you know. When I got clearance I ended up spending three hours locked in the restroom hyperventilating." Belle sends Emma a tiny, crooked smile. "I've known people who've fainted and others who just shrugged and made peace with it right there." 

Emma continues to frown up at the Stargate and tries to figure out what she's feeling. She wants to feel a connection, to be able to instantly decipher the strange symbols, something - anything. Mostly she's just cold, this far underground is always a little too chilly.

In fairy tales, the lost princess always returns to their rightful place and everything feels familiar and right. In reality, Emma can't even read the language of her people and it eats away at a part of her she wants to hide from prying eyes.

Belle continues, "There was one man who thought it was some elaborate joke because he got clearance right on his birthday. He didn't believe a word of it and it got so bad that General O'Neill had to call him _personally_."

Emma's met O'Neill, she had declined his handshake and his apologies even though both seemed to be offered genuinely. She doesn't get how such a laid back man can inspire so much fear and respect. But, she also spent a day last week terrified she might grow a tail, _so_…

"How many of these people were kidnapped by you guys?" Emma takes a savage pleasure in the way Belle flinches, looking away from her.

"We- we didn't know," Belle stumbles over her words. "Emma-"

"And I'm supposed to take your word on that," Emma murmurs. She's heard the apologies, been shown carefully edited accounts that apparently confirm someone had been manipulating various branches of whatever the hell the SGC and IOA are into action. She'd even been given the chance to speak to a member of something called SG-4 who froze up and drew his weapon on her when he saw her in the halls because he was under the impression he and his team had captured her because she was an Ori spy. 

Whatever an Ori _is._

For all she knows she is Ori. 

"We're _trying_ to find out how this all happened," Belle says looking flustered. "I _swear._ What happened to you is _not_ okay and it's _not_ how things are done around here."

"Unless a shadow king pulls the strings and tricks everyone into making it happen," Emma reminds her. "Let's just hope I don't disappear in the middle of the night before you guys figure it all out." Not that she's thought about that, not like that fear keeps her awake more often than not.

"We're-"

"Looking into it," she finishes for Belle. "Yeah, you and all the international agencies I wasn't previously aware even _existed_ keep telling me that in-between thanking me for my patience and cooperation in my continued imprisonment." Emma returns her gaze to the Stargate, "At least I get shoes this time."

From the corner of her eye, Emma sees Belle's mouth open and close before her shoulder sag. 

"I'm sorry," she offers in a tiny voice.

"And how do you say that in _my_ language?"

Emma doesn't expect a response, but she gets one. Belle looks her straight in the eyes speaks, this time with a hint of frustration in her voice and whatever she's saying is full of vowels and flows like water from her lips. 

Her apology still means absolutely nothing to Emma.

+

Dr. Hopper is nice and non-threatening in all the right ways. Sweater vest, complete with a few stray dog hairs, slightly untamed hair, and the kind of eye contact that says _I'm listening_ without implying _I'm also watching_. 

In front of her Dr. Hopper lazily spins a pen between his fingers and smiles, comfortable or at least able to fake it in the wake of her silence. 

Emma's met men like him before, told them her secrets before. She's not that little girl anymore though, and it's gonna take more than a little kindness to break her. 

+

She's still not sure if Belle had assigned herself to Emma or if someone else did. All she knows is that Belle has moved into the base under Cheyenne and spends her time emotionally throwing herself at Emma and pretending she isn’t hurt every time Emma rebuffs her.

Emma should feel worse about it. Belle seems like a sweet enough girl after all, but there's this whole thing where Emma's an alien prisoner under a mountain filled with secrets.

+

"You've got to give the shrink _something_," O'Neill tells her unsolicited over the breakfast he'd crashed. "Otherwise they get all weird and start making things up stuff about using humor as a shield and what they think you _really_ mean when you talk about cake. Trust me," he says with a conspiratorial nod, "it can get ugly."

Emma considers this, moving her pancake around on her plate absently. "Seems like things have already gotten _ugly_."

"Things can _always_ get worse."

She watches him, turning his words over for a hint of a threat but finds none.

"Well," he says slapping the table lightly, "this has been a blast but I've gotta run before Daniel or Sam finds me."

+

Emma gets to know the lower levels of the base pretty well over the next month. It's more freedom then she'd had before but it's still carefully limited. There are literally dozens of doors and entire levels out of her reach and two shadows that follow her everywhere but into her room. 

In the halls she gets used to the open stares and the halting of conversations when she's noticed. She's more than just a freak to the people who live and work here, she's an uncomfortable reminder and she's finding she rather likes it. 

_Let_ them feel guilty. Let them squirm. It's a hell of a lot nicer than what she endured at their hands.

+

Belle is easily distracted. All it takes is a well-timed question about the Stargate and Belle is bright-eyed and off on a tangent about worm-holes and something called a DHD. As Belle swipes her key card she completely forgets to cover up the pad from view as she enters her pin code.

+

"Alterans," Emma murmurs, rolling the word Belle gave her around in her mouth and looking for any hint of familiarity. Like with the language and the symbols, she finds none. 

It's hard to connect with a whole new species when you've lived your life thinking you belonged to another. She's never even heard of a book that covers how to come to terms with being an intergalactic cuckoo-baby. Maybe one has been published since she was disappeared, but she doubts it.

"When can I meet them?" Emma congratulates herself on managing to conceal most of the longing in her voice. 

Across from her Belle looks like she'd just realized something. "Well…" she trails off, looking anywhere but at Emma. 

What comes next might just be worse than the cell.

+

Emma tears up everything that can be torn, smashes anything that can break, and cries when there's nothing left to destroy. When she has no more energy she sleeps in the ruins of her room.

It seems unfair on a massive scale that she's connected to two worlds - two whole _species_ \- but she has no ties to either. Last of her kind, lost in the shuffle of Earth. 

If she has to be Superman in this story, then where the fuck was her Martha and Jonathan Kent? 

+

Belle is the only one to brave her doorway, even the uniforms stand back as they slide trays of food inside.

"I have something to show you," Belle says with a nervous glance over her shoulder. 

Emma continues to glare silently from the corner she'd tucked herself into.

Belle ignores her look, crouching down in the middle of Emma's mess and holding out a tiny black sphere towards Emma.

"You have to touch it for it to work," Belle insists. "I would show you, but I don't have the gene."

"Learned my lesson about touching things I don't understand," Emma rasps. "Now get out of my room before I _touch_ you."

For all the Belle seems desperate to find forgiveness, maybe even friendship in Emma, she's still got more than a little fear in her and it's easy enough to coax it to life. Belle stumbles back, almost tripping over her lab coat as she scrambles for the door.

Alone in what has become her room on good days and her new cell on bad days Emma can't be bothered to wonder about the object.

+

There's _still_ a never-ending group of high ranking military personnel in stiff uniforms and smooth-talking diplomats with questions waiting for her when Emma starts venturing out of her room once more. 

"They're not normally as annoying as they've been lately," Belle tells her with an apologetic smile she gathers up her notes. "We're all just having a heck of a time trying to figure out how an operation of that scale and reach could happen under our noses and then there's the attack on the base and the whole _you_ thing."

"The _me_ thing?" Emma's too tired to be mad about how that sounds.

"You're not the first alien to live on Earth, but you _are_ one of the few who wasn't aware of your own status." Belle shakes her head, "On top of that you're the last line we have to an extinct race and there are one or two people from the military who are convinced you taking that device from Aurora wasn't coincidental." She stops, turning to Emma preemptively with a finger raised, "No one else thinks that by the way. I mean, if you wanted to do damage you picked one of the least harmful Ancient devices we've-" She stops talking with a wince. 

"Let me guess, above my clearance level?"

Belle nods, looking torn, "Sorry."

Emma's beyond sick of that word.

+

Emma hasn't seen the sun since she watched the earth covering it up from space. It should probably bother her more than it does.

Dr. Hooper has terms that he seems to think explains this, even offers medications that might help but Emma turns him down each time. He's confused more often than not, saying silly things like _I'm worried you're not happy_ to a person with no control over her life besides what hallway route she'll take to the gym that night and what flavor of Jell-O she'll grab in the cafeteria. 

More often than not he asks her how she's dealing with her _heritage_ \- his word, not hers - and wants to know if she's being treated well by people on base. He cares about her in some capacity, Emma can hear it in every question he asks and how he offers tidbits of himself up like maybe someday they'll look back at her distrust of him and laugh. 

_Remember how cranky you were after a rouge faction abducted you and then we locked you away under a mountain?_ he'll say, and they'll toast their beers together and chuckle. Because they're friends Emma will confide in him that she's scared of everything from the guards in the halls to herself. Especially herself. She'll tell him how she stares in the mirror for hours at a time terrified she'll notice scales or a third arm she'd somehow missed. She'll tell him about the questions she has that she knows no one will answer. The questions about what do her people look like? Is her hair normal? Her teeth? Will she wake up with a tail one day? If she peels off her skin will everything be the same as the diagrams in her school books or will she be _wrong_?

+

"Dr. Hopper has recommended a change of scenery for you," O'Neil says in the middle of Emma's twentieth pull up. "I suggested Thailand, but I'm probably not gonna be able to get anyone to agree to it."

Emma's grip on the bar slips, but she rallies and keeps going.

Hope is a foolish thing, Emma knows better than to let it take root. 

"You've been down here a lot lately," he observes, walking until he's standing in front of her. 

Emma exhales and pulls herself up, stilling for a count of two before slowly lowering her body. She's stronger than she's ever been. Faster too. It's funny what you're capable of when you have access to a gym and live in a constant state of fear.

+

Emma's in the cafeteria when the sirens go off. 

"_Klaxons_," Belle corrects with an absent frown. "And they shouldn't be audible from here unless…"

She doesn't need to finish her sentence. Around the cafeteria trays of food are being abandoned as men and women are standing and reaching for their weapons. 

Something is wrong.

Emma tries not to smile.

"You should return to your room," Belle nods towards Emma's guards who are already closer than normal. "Lock your door until it's safe. I need to go see what's happening."

Emma grabs Belle before she can disappear, pretending not to notice the way she startles.

"Be safe," Emma tells her pulling her into a quick hug.

A shocked smile is spread across Belle when Emma pulls back, and she nods happily. "I'm sure it's nothing," she insists with a fluster, still unable to shake her starry-eyed smile. "I've got to…" She gestures towards the door and Emma nods. 

She watches Belle leave, careful to tuck Belle's key card into her pocket at an angle her guards won't see.

+

Her guards drop her off with strict orders to stay inside. Emma rolls her eyes and waits to the count of fifty before poking her head out her door where, sure enough, her guards have left her unattended and are jogging towards the end of the hallway, talking into their radios.

Emma closes her door as quietly as possible and slips down the other end of the hallway. She's _mostly_ sure that the elevator at the end of the hallway should lead up. She's never been in it, but she's seen the way people automatically herd her away from it.

+

Emma doesn't even make it to the end of the hallway before a man in a thick leather coat comes tearing around the corner and slamming into her. They both go tumbling to the floor and Emma spends a moment laying there in shock but he doesn't. Quick as a cat he's rolling himself over until he's on his hands and knees, pushing himself up and grinning like chaos incarnate.

He raises one hand- but it's not a hand. Hands aren't made of metal and they certainly don't glow with yellow light. He opens his palm towards her, and while Emma isn't sure what's going on she's pretty sure palms up and out doesn't mean what it normally means in this situation.

"You don't happen to know the way to the Stargate, do you, my dear?”

"Maybe," she hedges. "Do you know a way out of here?"

There's a swagger in his motions and the cocky jut of his eyebrow, but at her words most of it turns into confusion and skepticism. His metal hand closes slightly, but he levels a cautious finger at her. 

"Now why-"

"I have my reasons," she interrupts him, pushing herself up and dusting herself off. "So _do_ you know a way out?"

Emma doesn't see it coming, but from the way, his eyes snap to a point beyond her she thinks he might. There's the static sound and before she can react she falls, numb, watching as he stumbles under one blast, two, and finally falls when a third one hits him.

There's a storm in his eyes as they lay immobilized. A hatred and a determination in him that makes her want to crow with joy. 

She may be alone, but at least she isn't alone in her rage.

+

Emma wakes up a new room. The door has no lock on it but there are four guards instead of her normal two waiting outside. None of them look nearly as approachable as the others had.

+

She's summoned and for once they don't pretend she has an option in the matter.

"Did you know that man?" One man asks her with a carefully neutral tone.

"I understood him," Emma says with a shrug. 

He frowns, "What exactly did you understand?"

Emma thinks of stormy eyes and a metal hand, "Anger."

+

There's hurt in Belle's eyes when she sees Emma leaving the conference room.

"Did you really think we could be friends?" Emma asks her before she's shuffled away by her handlers or before Belle can disappear. 

Belle avoids her eyes, staring pointedly down at the floor and hugging her files to her chest. Her chin trembles slightly, after a pause, she stands, moving to walk in the opposite direction from Emma.

“Friends don’t keep friends locked in secret bunkers, Belle,” Emma calls after her, ignoring the way the others in the hallway watch them in cautious silence.

+

Emma doesn't ask after the man with the strange hand and the General doesn't offer any information when he summons her to his office. He sits across from her with a blank look on his face and his chin in his hands.

"You don't like it here very much, do you?"

Emma looks pointedly towards her guards and then raises an eyebrow at O'Neill.

"Point taken." He sighs theatrically, "What are we going to do with you?"

She's had endless nightmares that have answered that question, but she's not about to start offering tips on her own destruction. She stays silent and he doesn't seem to mind it very much.

+

What he does with her is tag along on a trip to San Fransisco that involves riding in a helicopter out into the middle of the ocean.

Emma turns her face into the sun, stares up at it until her eyes hurt too much to continue and then makes do with just breathing in the smell of the water and feeling the sun warming her skin. For the first time in a long time, she feels something close to contentment. 

There's a good chance they're planning to dump her dead body into the ocean, but Emma doesn't mind all that much if this and not some underground mountain fortress can be her last memory.

+

She doesn't expect to find a city floating in the ocean. She certainly doesn't expect it to _sing_ to her.

"What-"

"Welcome to Atlantis," O'Neill tells her with a smug smile. 

+

There's a catch because there's always a catch, but Emma can't find it. The General simply tells her to have a look around and walks off leaving her alone with her guards and a city that lights up and opens it's self to her.

The city likes her a lot more than it likes her escorts. When one of the doors that open so smoothly for Emma slams shut in the face of the soldiers that had been following her Emma doesn't look a gift horse in the face. She runs, the city lighting up and opening it's doors as she goes.

+

"What are you?" she asks the walls, trailing her fingers along as she makes her way.

Under her fingers, the wall is already warm and inviting. In front of her, the walls are shifting, sliding until windows are dotting the walls and letting more sunlight in.

It’s trying to please her, Emma realizes, feeling dizzy and free. 

"Thank you," she murmurs to the city. It hums under her skin in response, all warmth and love and it's too much, far too much - and then it's gone and Emma is left shaking in a deserted hallway.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. She wipes at the tears at her eyes, “It’s just a lot to take in at once, okay?” 

It sneaks back in, slower this time. It's apologetic and hopeful, things a city and an invisible song shouldn't be able to be. 

There's a very good chance that she's losing her mind, but there's a bigger chance that leaving this place will kill what's left of her heart.

Outside one of the newly formed windows, there's a massive tower.

"There," Emma says no longer feeling foolish for talking to an empty room. "I want to go there."

+

It's surprisingly easy to get to the top of the Eastern tower. It helps that the city seems to know what she wants, the lights along the floor and steps glowing brighter in the direction she needs to head. The balcony she ends up on is connected to yet another room of ambiguous purpose but it gives her an amazing view of the city and the ocean.

It's not quite right, though. She examines the surrounding walls and after a little bit of trial and error, she manages to scale up to the tip of the spire. The winds are surprisingly fierce from her crouch there, but her fear never seems to come as she peaks over the edge.

On a whim Emma unwraps her hand from the spiked antenna-like creation that sits on the very top and stands, arms out at her side and legs and lower torso braced against the wind as her hair whips at her face. She can't remember ever being this far from the ground before any more than she can remember being this calm. Emma turns until the wind is at her back, invisible hands pushing against her as the sun warms her side.

It seems unfair that Clark Kent - as fictional as he may be - had been given so much. He has his family, his speed, his strength, his fortress, and a thousand other gifts, each more fantastical than the last. 

All Emma has gotten is locked up and a day pass to the flying city that could have been her legacy in a perfect world. A city that has been run into the ground by time and battles she can only read heavily censored accounts of. It's now the tool and lab and home of people who aren't her, people with the clearance needed know and explore the secrets that should be hers. 

Clark-_fucking_-Kent wouldn't have even needed clearance, he could have just flown here. 

Closing her eyes she inhales, opening her hands from their fists until the wind threads between her fingers. Why couldn't her people have had the power of flight?

"I'm rather surprised to hear you think we didn't," says a smug voice. "I mean, you _are_ standing on a flying city. Keyword: _flying_."

Emma opens her eyes, squinting against the wind until she sees the man dressed in a strange all-white outfit standing next to her. Despite the wind, his hair and clothes are perfectly still and he makes no move to protect his eyes. Every cell of her body screams about the wrongness of him, of his silent appearance on the spire, but Emma ignores it. She's been kidnapped, teleport, and stripped of her claim as a member of Earth - she's learning to exist alongside the strange and unfathomable. 

"You should step back now, Emma," he says with a sad smile. "Wind speeds are increasing."

"I'll be fine," she insists.

He rolls his eyes dramatically, "The results of my neurochemical scans of you _would_ suggest otherwise."

Emma scowls, "I'm getting really sick of people taking medical liberties with my body."

"Luckily for you, I'm not people."

She considers this, quirking an eyebrow, "Are you an alien, too?"

"Depends on your definition of alien."

"Born on Earth?"

He smiles widely, "Would you believe me if I told you that as I currently am I have never experienced any form of birth?"

"Yeah," Emma admits. "It's not even in my top five weirdest claims heard this week."

"Well," he says taking a step closer to her, "if you were willing to come down and shelve this little excursion of yours for another day I could promise to absolutely _destroy_ your top five."

He - _all of him_ \- flickers into nothing before he's whole again. Emma reaches out a single finger, poking at his arm only to watch it slip through him. This is probably where she should draw the line, but she finds that while she hates his grin that says he knows more than she does - it's also not as much as she hates the tangible people she's met lately.

"I want to," she smiles and hopes he can understand, "but I'm pretty sure my escorts are way past having kittens and planning on locking me up again as soon as they find me."

There's a flash of something angry in his eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared and he's inclining his head thoughtfully.

"What if I could guarantee they wouldn't find you until you were ready to be found?"

"They have life sign detectors, soldiers, and ships," Emma points out with a weary smile. "And I've been trying but have had no luck with laser eye beams or super speed. So unless you've got a trick up your sleeve I could use…"

"For you? I could do much more than_tricks,_" he says spreading his hands out dramatically. All around them the lights start to glow in every window of every tower, several sections of what Emma had thought were buildings shift, rotate, and change before her eyes.

Emma takes it all in with a feeling of awe before turning back to him, "What _are_ you?"

He bows, "A.I. 892, but you call me Jefferson."

(Sometimes Emma has to wait another week to see the sun and it's a day too long and she breaks and never manages to heal in any way that matters, sometimes she's found before she reached the top of the Spiral and is returned to the darkness under the Mountain as punishment, and sometimes the ZPM and backup generators are depleted enough that the AI isn't activated by her presence and Emma steps into the air to see if she can fly. Here, though, General O'Neill looks at Emma and sees a child with a gun in her hand and isn't about to stand around with everyone else and wait and see what happens.)


End file.
